


Comfort

by steamyaffair



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Felching, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamyaffair/pseuds/steamyaffair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds comfort in Percival and discovers that he doesn't always have to be the strong one</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

“With all due respect, Sire,” Percival whispered into the nape of Arthur’s neck, “Shut. Up.”

Arthur’s temper flared at the words - prompting him to struggle a bit, but it was only a token show of resistance and they both knew it.

Percival held him fast, as unmoving as an oak, with arms banded across his king’s chest and midriff.

He had stepped forward to grip his king from behind in a bear-hug as soon as Arthur came ranting into the royal chambers (and slamming the royal chamber’s door - to boot) after a particularly foul council session.

“Let me be,” Arthur growled, not meaning it. Percival’s bare chest was a warm bulwark at his back.

“No.”

Percival knew what Arthur meant. More importantly, he knew what Arthur needed. Above all else, he knew Arthur could never ask for it.

Arthur was summarily stripped and manhandled onto his bed where Percival planted one broad hand on his chest to hold him down while his other hand lifted one of Arthur’s legs up to rest on the knight’s shoulder. Then, Percival ducked down to suck his king’s cock.

Arthur cried out; he tried to buck and thrust upwards, but Percival’s strength held him fast. His fingers were _rooted_ in Arthur’s chest, anchoring Arthur as he attempted to thrash about.

Percival sucked him brutally - almost painfully - before releasing Arthur’s cock to nose further down, lifting Arthur’s lower body as he did so.

It was utterly surreal to find himself completely at the mercy of this strong, gentle warrior. To find himself incapable of escape or even the _desire_ for escape. He _relished_ the feeling of surrender and let loose a long groan when Percival’s tongue found his hole.

Bent nearly in half, with one leg draped over Percival’s shoulder and the other fallen wide to the side, Arthur _reveled_ in the complete lack of shame he felt now that Percival had taken over. Percival was in control. Percival decided what would happen next. Percival was licking and sucking at his arse like it was his last meal and Arthur was panting and moaning like a whore. Loving it.

Then there was the steady pressure of something more than Percival’s tongue. Not his cock - not yet - but maybe a finger? Two? He was working Arthur open. Relentless. Merciless. Heedless of station or propriety. Percival’s tongue and fingers opened their king with slow, sensual movements until Arthur felt his mind couldn’t take any more.

Every time Arthur opened his mouth to _demand_ or _request_ or _plead_ his voice caught as Percival anticipated him. His cock was drooling and his arse was dripping and Percival was _still_ **still** making the filthiest noises as his mouth devoured Arthur’s arse.

It was almost too much.

Yet, Arthur retained the barest, most tenuous hold upon his senses - so he knew it was far from over.

As if on cue, Percival surged forward - a wave of strength and intensity. He flipped Arthur over and covered the back of his body with his own massive bulk before receding like the tide. Bit by bit, he kissed his way down the back of Arthur’s body until his lips reclaimed Arthur’s arse and his hands maneuvered Arthur’s legs so that the king was splayed, wide open, upon his outstretched knees.

Once again, Arthur felt the steady push of Percival’s fingers into his body and he sighed his acceptance of this intrusion. The fingers _pushed_ and _pressed_ and _spread_ and _curled_ until Arthur nearly wept for release.

Then, they were gone and Arthur’s arse clenched at the emptiness while his lungs struggled to fill and his mind shouted _No, No, NO - More! Now!_

A noise. The shuffle of clothing. The scrape of a drawer. The susurrant sound of a jar opening. A squelch.

Even as Arthur’s mind categorized these sounds he lifted his hips and … Yes! Rewarded with three thick fingers, Arthur pumped his arse back to meet Percival’s hand.

“Steady,” Percival murmured, capturing Arthur’s hip with one hand. But Arthur’s mind only heard “ _soon_ ” and he keened for it.

Sure enough, the fingers were shortly replaced by Percival’s long, thick cock and Arthur _melted_ , forcing his body to re-shape into a form that could accept this not-quite-painful/more-than-welcome intrusion into his body.

Boneless and near rapture, Arthur’s thoughts danced through his mind. Every deep thrust from Percival’s hips chased the frolicking nuisances of _duty_ and _obligation_ further away until the only thing Arthur was aware of was the beautiful intensity of his body stretching and welcoming the deep and thorough pounding his arse was receiving until suddenly -

That moment - that perfect instant where Percival’s cock is thrust balls deep, his grip on Arthur’s hip leaving bruised spots even as his mouth sucks a brutal love-bite at his throat...

That. That _Bliss_!

Arthur’s body convulsed, spilling - untouched- as Percival continued to pound into him. His thick cock thrust hard and almost painfully deep until, at last, he snapped his hips forward, groaning long and low, waves of completion washing over him.

Arthur absorbed it.

Arthur’s body rocked forward in sync Percival’s last languid thrusts.

Arthur’s throat let loose a grateful moan.

Several moments passed, during which Percival collapsed on top of Arthur.

“Fucking -” Arthur tried to squirm away to no avail.

“Patience,” Percival murmured, settling his body comfortably over his king’s while he stroked the fine hairs at the nape of Arthur’s neck. His touch strayed lower and his lips followed, once again trailing kisses to the base of his king’s spine.

“Not quite done with you, yet,” Percival whispered across the cleft of Arthur’s arse. Arthur’s mind struggled to pull itself back together - then, Percival’s tongue was licking him open once more as his hands spread Arthur wide.

“You can’t -” Arthur stammered, stuck somewhere between _appalled_ and _incredibly aroused!_

“I’m only taking back what’s mine,” Percival growled before leaning in to lick and suck the spunk from his king’s arse.

Arthur froze, stiff and unyielding. His hole clenched tight and his buttocks locked solid. He couldn’t allow this - he couldn’t _want_ this!

Percival’s hands massaged and soothed the stiffness away. “Let me,” Percival’s breath ghosted across Arthur’s arse and the king found himself relenting.

“That’s it,” Percival encouraged as Arthur bit his lip and allowed the giant knight to manipulate his body until he was splayed open and wanton, “Let me see all of you - let me …”

Percival’s voice hitched and Arthur turned his head to see what was the matter.

“Arthur,” Percival murmured, rapt with desire.

His name. His _name_ \- not his title or rank - just … Arthur.

Arthur kicked and struggled, turning and tangling their bodies until he and Percival were face-to-face. “Say it again,” he breathed, cupping Percival’s face in his hands.

“Arthur,” Percival whispered. He leaned forward and caught his king’s lower lip between his teeth while his hands roamed across Arthur’s shaking body, drawing him close.

Arthur. Only Arthur. Here and now.

“Shh,” Percival blew against Arthur’s temple as he arranged their limbs into a comfortably recumbent kind of tangle.

Arthur settled and allowed himself to be soothed, drunk on the memory of Percival’s affectionate gaze. His lips curved upwards even as he sank into sleep. Sated. Content. Happy.


End file.
